


Get It Sorted Out

by potion_seller



Series: DSMP Hogwarts AU [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Background Relationships, Clay | Dream Has ADHD (Video Blogging RPF), Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Hogwarts, How Do I Tag, Inappropriate Humor, Light Angst, Magic, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Niki | Nihachu Needs a Hug, No Smut, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Some Plot, Swearing, The Sorting Hat, Time Skips, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade are Siblings, everyone in this au is an idiot, i mean just look at the au, set up to other stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:08:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29331339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potion_seller/pseuds/potion_seller
Summary: Dream SMP Hogwarts AU Time? Mayhaps?This is the first fic in the AU, it's basically the Sortings for the characters that are going to be in this AU.I'm writing the chapters by year level so Phil first, then fifth years etc.Enjoy!
Relationships: all platonic for now there will be gay though just trust me
Series: DSMP Hogwarts AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2204925
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Get It Sorted Out

Phil Watson, an eleven-year-old boy in an oversized bucket hat, stepped off the Hogwarts Express and onto the wooden platform of his new school, pushing the brim of the striped hat up so his blue eyes could see clearly. He clutched a small leather satchel at his side, a golden cage covered in a simple cloth being held aloft in his other hand, the boy seemingly unknowingly clenching and unclenching his fist every no and again. Gazing around nervously, the young boy began walking over to where an old man was holding a lantern calling for first years, Phil stopping as he felt a shifting in the cage in his arms. The pureblood let out a huff, boots stopping the walk, lifting the cover of the golden cage to see a young eagle staring back at him, glaring daggers with at him her piercing amber eyes. 

Phil rolled his eyes, letting them glow blue with annoyance as he peeked back into the cage, “You’re being a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” Phil muttered to the eagle letting the cover fall back onto the cage, Amara letting out a series of extravagant screeches. Phil chuckled at his brid’s dramatics, resuming his walk towards the faint glow of the old man’s lantern. 

Phil started to notice a large body of water behind the old man as he got closer, the moon shining off the lake, painted an inky black by the night sky. Long wooden docks stretched out into the water, a series of canoes lined up bobbing by them. Phil watched peacefully as two young female students hopped into a canoe together, chatting and giggling like they already knew where they belonged. A soft hand tapped him on the shoulder, jolting him out his enamored state, the young boy turned curiously. The old man stared back at him, holding a piece of parchment in his scarred hand, the amber hue of the lantern bobbing above the both of them. 

“Name please?” The man asked, bright brown eyes sparkling with mischief as he looked at the boy, gaze seeming as if he already knew who he was. 

Phil shifted Amara’s cage in his arm under the man’s gaze, “Phil Watson.” He spoke quickly, nervously gazing around to see if there were any children around.

The man flipped through the list, stopping as his finger landed on a particular spot, “Ah! Been a while since we’ve had a metamorphmagus my boy!” Phil stiffened at the mention of metamorphosis, fighting the nerve to pull his bucket hat on tighter to hide his oddly colored roots as the man tapped the paper. The old man shoved the paper away and pointed in the direction of the dock of canoes, “Right that way then, get on a boat and you’ll head over to the school. Have a good year Mr. Watson!” 

“Thank you.” Phil smiled smally, waving nervously to the lantern holder, hurrying away to the dock. He gazed around at the canoes, getting into the nearest empty boat and placing Amara’s cage onto the floor of the small canoe. The eagle let out an uncomfortable squawk as the small boat began to move gracefully through the water, Phil peeking under the cover and smiling at her gently, goofily letting his hat fall onto the canoe floor revealing emerald-colored roots fading into the normal blonde of his hair. Amara hopped over to Phil from inside her cage, pressing her beak against his nose and cocking her head, before turning and squawking at the bucket hat, pecking in the direction of it rapidly. Phil laughed brightly, swiping up his bucket hat and placing it back on as they approached the beach of Hogwarts, Amara, satisfied, stopping her dramatics. Readjusting his hat, Phil couldn’t help but hear students gasping in the boats behind him, curious, he looked back up to be struck with pure awe and maybe an irregular bit of fear. 

Shining in the glow of the moon, Hogwarts Castle stood proud and tall as it had been for centuries, the Astronomy Tower seeming to scrape up to the stars and the castle’s dungeon seemingly going into the ground as if it was made to be part of the earth. The castle seemed as if it never ended going up and faded into the ground almost like it never stopped going down. Phil gulped at the beauty of it all, some part of him wondering if its elegant demeanor was deceiving. Approaching the dock, a set of floating lanterns cast a glow about, watching over the new arrivals with their careful amber glow. 

Clumsily shifting himself and Amara off of the canoe, Phil watched with sparkling eyes as the lanterns bobbed in lines over to the new students just docking, Amara squeaking in her cage at the shift in light. Phil gently pat the cage, trying to comfort her as he looked up to castle, it looming mockingly above him. 

As Phil approached the small crowd gathered a few feet away from the gate, he noticed a well-dressed younger woman stood gracefully outside the gate to the castle, she seemed to be gazing out at the sea of young students carrying bags and terrariums all the same, her cutting diamond blue eyes watching over them. She was wearing a simple hat over incredibly curly dirty-blonde hair, wearing a sky-blue tie and grey robes, small crystals sewn into the grey fabric, giving the illusion of stars sparkling in the robes. Her dark-skinned hands were folded neatly into themselves as her clear blue eyes watched out across the crowd, a pleasant smile adorning her face. Phil stood near the back, awkwardly shifting his bucket hat and squeezing Amara’s cage handle in his hand as the woman began to speak. 

“Hello students, my name is Professor Fructure, I teach herbology and I am the head of Ravenclaw house.” Her voice was calm and clear, speaking evenly and properly, “If you’ll come with me, we’ll begin getting you all sorted and set into your dorms.” She turned, glittering robes fanning out behind the Professor as she began walking to the gates, her golden curls bouncing as she walked to the entry way, looking back to the crowd of children. Her piercing blue gaze seemed to shift something in the crowd, the once noisy children walking to the gates in respectful whispers. Phil looked around the warmly lit entrance to the castle, almost stumbling on the first step of a large marble staircase, colored peach under the lanternlights of the entrance. The beauty of it all almost amazed Phil, gazing about nervously as the sea of children swept the blonde boy up the stairs and to a large pair of dark oak doors, the golden handles glinting in the warm glow of the castle. 

“Now,” Professor Fructure turned, addressing the sea of children, a hush yet again falling over the first years, “We’re about to enter the Great Hall, there, you’ll undergo sorting. Now, there’s four houses for each of you to be put into. There’s Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.” She spoke calmly as students began whispering about the sorting, leaning back against the golden door handles “Now. When you hear your name called, you will approach the Sorting Hat, it will decide where you will be for the next seven years, no ifs ands or buts. Follow me then.” She turned and pushed open the doors, the heads of the students already present in the hall turning to the doors to see the new arrivals. 

Knowing he would be later on the list due to his last name, Phil stayed near the back of the group, fidgeting as he watched the first student go up to the podium. She was a young blonde girl with warm brown eyes and freckles all over her face, she smiled toothily at Professor Fructure before taking her seat on the stool. The Sorting Hat was placed on her head, shifting impatiently as it began speaking in a crackly, wise voice. 

“Not so complex, are we?” The Sorting Hat seemed to fold down as if gazing at the girl beneath it, it hummed, brim flapping about before speaking yet again, “Yes, yes. Plain and simple this one. Slytherin!” The crackle in the voice faded as the hat spoke out to the hall, the girl’s eyes lighting up before she smiled and walked over to the Slytherin table. Greeted by a redhead boy who offered her a seat near some second years, already chatting away and offering her food. 

As the Sorting continued, Phil found himself fidgeting with Amara’s cage, his eagle sensing her owner’s tension and keeping quiet, occasionally pecking at Phil’s fingers to get him to pay attention. The crowd began to thin out, the most recent sorting, a black-haired boy being put into Gryffindor, smugly began walking over to the table as if he belonged there. 

Professor Fructure’s blue eyes flicked over the parchment she had been reading names off, before gazing back up to the smaller crowd of first years. 

“Phil Watson?” 

Phil tensed; feeling the other students eyes falling on him as he began to walk up to the front. Awkwardly placing Amara’s cage at the foot of the stool and sitting on it, shifting as Professor Fructure shifted to grab the hat, pausing before the hat was placed on his head. Raising an eyebrow, he paused, the dark-skinned woman pointing to her own hat, Phil tensed. 

_His hat_

\- 

_For most of his life, Phil had had little to no control over his ability of metamorphosis, only able to control one area of his magic, wings, he would fly about happily above the world for hours, unbothered and unconcerned about the other aspects of his metamorphosis. But, they did exist, and an obstacle Phil struggled with the most was his hair. Throughout his childhood, Phil’s roots were known to change themselves every now and again, no one quite sure when or what color it would be. His magic usually resorted to shades of green and the occasional blue, occasionally going off the rails with reds or purples. The one odd time going a neon orange for two weeks, the top of Phil’s head practically glowing._

_Growing up in a Pureblooded District, Phil’s mother knew some of the families were still snobs and pricks over mixing other forms of magic with their wizardry, despite the war being won by a group of children who could give two knuts about purebloods and halfbloods. This concerning her as her little neon haired son ran about their backyard, fighting in his pretend battles and flying about with wings he’d spent hours getting just right, having the times of his life with neon green hair._

_It wasn’t noticeable to little Phil, his mother hid the burning looks and judging whispers from him well. Occasionally pulling out her wand to stop insults from reaching her son’s ears. The Ravenclaw woman was not one to be messed with, not when she came from a line of incredibly powerful wizards._

_On his eighth birthday, his mother had gotten him a hat. It was simple gift from what the little boy was used too, green and white stripes covering it with a wavy brim. But Phil had loved it just the same, beginning to wear it around the house proudly, the hat serving very well for games of pretend when he needed a helmet for battle._

_Phil had never questioned the use for the hat he loved so dearly until last year. Two years of his mother’s reminders to bring his beloved hat with them whenever they went out to Diagon Alley for food, her little nitpicks when he had placed it just far enough to see the unnatural color his hair was that day, pulling it down to hide the shade of ocean blue or grassy green. Her incessant stitchwork to resize it as he became older, even oversizing it for his journey to Hogwarts when he had gotten his letter._

_Phil hadn’t realized his mother was hiding his hair until last year._

_It hadn’t been a huge fight to his mother, she knew what she was doing, and she knew he would figure it out eventually. But Phil had been devastated, all the memories and fondness he had for the accessory suddenly felt wrong, corrupted._

_He remembered shouting, he had thrown the hat into his mother’s face, telling her to bombardo it for all he cared, stomping up the stairs and slamming the door as hard as he could. He knew it was awful to want a reaction from her, but still, he wanted his mother to cry or beg for forgiveness for what she did to her son. But nothing came, his mother could only be heard gently walking around downstairs, muttering careful cleaning and repair spells to the mess Phil had made._

_The next morning, Phil had made a decision, he knew his mother was off at work already as he woke. Shaking his hair and running a hand through it, he looked into the mirror, seeing a wave of navy blue fading onto the top of his head. He had smiled, grabbing a jacket before slipping out of his house into the misty morning, no hat to be seen._

\- 

Practically wincing, Phil nervously lifted his hat off his head, revealing the emerald green roots bleeding into his blonde hair. A flood of coughs to hide gasps, and subtle whispers took over the crowd. The younger level students leaning behind hands, eyes boring into the top of his head. The Professor’s eyes widened, quickly placing the Sorting Hat on his head, smiling at him as she did so, small and apologetic. 

\- 

_He had come back later that day, undeniably, and to his mother, inexplicably upset._

_Until she saw his head uncovered._

_They talked, though Phil clearly didn’t want to, about why his mother did what she did. And, after he listened, Phil began to understand where his mother was coming from, his eyes widening at the things she heard of him as a child._

_The children Phil had run into were of a Pureblooded Slytherin family, raised to be judgmental of anyone different to them, and that Phil was. They hadn’t teased him exactly, though Phil knew they wanted to. But of course, no, they were to highbrow and to sophisticated to every directly say how awful Phil was for his hair. They could simply comment on it behind his back, loudly, or walk past him and sneer._

_His mother had sighed, explaining to him not all Pureblood families could be like his, carefree about whatever house you land in, not minding breaking the Pureblooded chain. Some households were raised to be a factory of a specific house, made to judge those that weren’t them, and be jealous of those who were better._

_Phil leaned against his mother’s shoulder, closing his eyes and letting himself sleep._

_They sat in a comfortable silence for the rest of the night._

_When Phil woke up, he was in his bed, the cleaned, newly resized hat sitting on his bedside table. And he had put it on without a second thought._

\- 

The whispers spread throughout the room, snippets of _cursed_ or _genetics_ making their way through the room, eyes shifting to the spot where the hat stayed on his head. Judgmental glares from certain tables fixing themselves on him as the hat rustled. 

Phil nearly winced at the instant silence as the hat hummed, rustling from side to side on the pureblood’s head. 

Ignoring the dead silence of the room, the hat spoke out, it’s crackly muttering making its way through the Great Hall, “Oh? A complicated child? Finally! I thought we’d have all these boring children, that leaves no excitement for me, you know.” The hat mused, rustling itself further onto Phil’s head, the metamorphmagus wincing at the shift, Phil’s eyes glowing blue with annoyance as the hat’s brim flopped downward, covering the glow in his eyes. 

Murmurs picking up from the Slytherin table at the hat’s interest in him, aggressive mutters being pulled back into quiet as the hat began to speak again, “Well, we’re ruling out Slytherin, not much ambition or cunning in this one.” 

The small celebration a group of pretentious looking seventh years at his passing on was ignored by Phil. 

The hat giggled, “You’re intelligent, aren’t you? Perhaps we have a Ravenclaw?” Phil thought up into the hat, _I’m not sure, this is your job after all._ “Well, there is wit to this one! However, there’s not much general competitiveness, so, I suppose we’ll rule this one out for you.” 

Phil sighed inwardly at not being sorted into Ravenclaw, some part of him wishing he could be in the house to honor his mother, the hat speaking before he could think more, “That leaves us with two, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff!” The hat began to mutter to itself, “We’ve not gotten many Gryffindors this year, quite the contradiction to a hundred years ago. But I suppose I cannot just put you into Gryffindor.” The hat folded over itself, an annoyed look crossing over its folds as it grumbled incoherent words. 

The hat seemed to stop itself from rustling on Phil’s head as it began to mutter so softly Phil could barely hear, “Chivalrous? Seems so, a right gentleman this one. Courage? Well,” The hat folded over, “we’ll say glass half-full.” Phil rolled his eyes, “Recklessness?” 

The hat paused, stopping itself, “No recklessness huh?” Its crackly chuckle ran out through the Great Hall. 

“It’s been fun having you, you complicated child, but I’ve got just the place for you.” 

The students watched, waiting to see where the boy with odd magic would go. 

The hat let out a bright laugh. 

“HUFFLEPUFF!” 

Phil smiled, practically melting in relief at the sorting being over. He let Professor Fructure take the hat off his head, it seeming to wink at him as it was placed on the stool. Phil blinked at the hat, watching as it let itself fall into its own comfortable position. Quickly, he snatched his bucket hat from the Professor’s hands smiling at her before grabbing Amara’s cage and heading to the Hufflepuff table. Ignoring the eyes on him from the other table’s, eyes fixed on his hat, eyes judging him.

-

After one to many hellos from all to forgettable faces, his body weight in food, and Amara being too snooty to eat the cooked chicken from the table, Phil and all the other first years were sent of to their dorm’s for the first time, the discomfort of choosing an unfamiliar roommate quickly settling upon the newly branded Hufflepuff boy.

Phil gazed around the entrance to the Hufflepuff Basement, a simple pair of stripped oak doors sitting comfortably, two golden rings adorning each as a handle. A large stack of barrels sat near the door, the air smelling sweetly like soap and desserts wafting from the kitchen as the elves cleaned dishes and magically stock piled delicious food for the days to come.

The Head Girl, a ditzy looking brunette with dark blue eyes clapped her hands together excitedly going on about dorm capacity and choosing roommates. It was nothing but noise to Phil, the boy tired beyond belief of socially interacting with those who were secretly judging him, only paying half-attention at the last sentence the girl cheerfully said.

“Now we have a number of boys this year that don’t fit into four, we’ve had it established that either someone can volunteer for their own room, or we’ll set up a magical expander for a five room.” She spoke, ocean blue eyes scanning the crowd as she tapped her chin thinking.

Before Phil could even think he raised his hand, Amara’s cage shifting at the sudden movement from the boy, “I can take the single room if no one else wants to.”

The Head Girl blinked at him, her deep blue eyes filled with confusion, and hands still clasped. She blinked against him as if to really ask him if he wanted to do this, Phil nodded, the amount of blonde hair that peeped out from the brim of his hat falling into his eyes. The brunette smiled gently at Phil before turning and smiling at the other new boys, all of whom were staring at him like he had a wart on his nose, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed jokingly as the Prefect spoke, “That’s settled then! Mr.Watson will be taking the single! Any complaints?” The kind older girl seemed to stare out to the crowd of boys, piercing deep blues daring any of the boy’s to complain about the metamorphmagus.

The room remained silent, Phil trying not to snicker at the fearful looks the First Years gave the girl as she smiled and clasped her hands together once again.

“Alright then! Everyone else pick your groups! Phil, Adam will take you up to your room then!” The brunette pointed to another man, a Prefect pin glistening on his tie as he stepped forward and smiled smally, cocking his head in the direction of the staircase to the dorms. Phil followed after him, quickly thanking the other as they reached the polished oak doors to his room, shifting in relief as Adam walked away to help other kids. Without a second thought, Phil quickly slid into his room falling against the door in exhaustion, letting his hat tip off his head and cloak ride up awkwardly on his stomach. Amara, forever the therapy bird, incessantly pecked at her cage handle, Phil throwing off his bucket hat and flicking the lock on the cage open, rolling his eyes at the bird’s dramatism coming out of her cage. 

Phil laughed at the bird, the eagle quickly backing herself onto Phil’s window sill, preening herself using her claws, the small, round window outlooking over a small boathouse the canoes from earlier were being rounded into. Phil sighed, walking over to the golden tinted window and pushing it open, gazing at the bird perched beside him, looking up at him expectantly.

He raised an eyebrow at her, sighing and hanging his head in defeat, pure green showing as he did so, “I suppose you want to go hunting, don’t you?”

Amara hopped around on the window sill excitedly, crowing affectionately at the idea .

Phil laughed, cradling his head in his hands as he nodded out to the world, “Go on then.”

Amara squawked happily, flapping her wings before hesitating slightly, a look of what seemed to be worry crossing her eyes as she looked at Phil.

Phil chuckled at the bird’s usually over confident demeanor failing a bit, smiling up to comfort the bird, , “I’ll go for a fly too ‘Mara, I promise.” Phil grinned at the white-tailed eagle smiling up at her gently. Cocking an eyebrow as if to motion for her to go.

At the words of reassurance, his eagle slowly flapped away, beginning to soar over the moon as she reached high up enough, gliding through the sky in the direction Phil knew to be the Forbidden Forest.

The metamorphmagus turned from the window, Amara a speck on the moon now, flicking his wand. The simple swish from the beech wood wand had the lanterns placed in bronze sconces on the wall illuminating, bathing the room in a cozy golden hue. The other bags Phil had brought had been apparated up, sitting on the single four poster bed stacked in order of size.

Phil groaned at the thought of unpacking, opting to lazily throw the clothes he brought into the bureau and tossing his school books into the small cupboard sitting across from the bed, knowing later he’d despise himself for it. Hanging his bucket hat on a hook near his door no doubt meant for cloaks, Phil collapsed onto the bed, gazing out the window hoping for Amara to come back to fill his boredom, the newly branded Hufflepuff’s promise to the eagle running through his mind over and over.

_“I’ll go for a fly too ‘Mara, I promise.”_

Phil slapped his hands to his face, hands tiredly running through his green to blonde hair.

“The things I do for that bird.” Phil muttered, before getting up and grabbing his hat.

-

The journey to find the Astronomy Tower, albeit daunting, was in the end successful, the metamorphmagus collapsing on the cool wooden floor as he reached the top of the tower. Panting from the flights of stairs he hadn’t been ready to climb, hanging his head, hand still holding the hat onto it, not that it mattered much, flying was one of the only times Phil purposefully let his hat come off.

Phil stood fully, shivering as he realized how cold it really was that night, yet the sky was clear and the moon was nearly full, perfect flying weather, at least for Phil.

Shaking off his oversized coat and tossing off his hat, emerald green hair shimmering in the moonlight Phil closed his eyes, tugging down in himself for that familiar string he’d had hold of since the beginning of his life.

He heard the gentle rustle of feathers, knowing full well they were in full fruition. He opened his eyes, glancing back at the large magpie wings sprouting from his back, rustling in the cold. Phil smiled, eyes glowing in happiness as he stretched, wings fanning out behind him.

Phil climbed up on the rail of the Astronomy Tower, standing on albeit a bit awkwardly, he gazed down, gulping slightly as he realized how high he was. 

He closed his eyes, stepping off the rail and letting himself fall before fanning out his wings, catching himself perfectly.

Phil opened one eyes nervously, seeing that he was floating through the air above his new school he laughed out, smiling uncontrollably as he shot himself up into the air. Like an emerald green firework he rocketed himself upward, stopping when he reached above the castle, looking down on the majestic sight of his new “home.”

As the blonde glided through the air, he felt himself relax, letting the chill of the autumn air rustle his hair, his eyes shifting from different variations of brightness as he let himself cut through the skies, no more than another bird to any onlooker.

As Phil gazed around, he found himself looking at the castle. Sighing he ran a hand through his hair, not minding the color up in the sky. Some part of the metamorphmagus knew there were going to be people who disliked him, or mocked him for things he couldn’t control. There wasn’t much the Hufflepuff could do to stop that, but from up here, where he had no one but the stars and the wind, Phil didn’t mind the thought.

He didn’t mind at all.

**Author's Note:**

> -A copper for your thoughts good traveler?-  
> WOOOOOOO THIS TOOK SO LONNGG  
> Next Sorting:  
> Will and Techno  
> Comments and Kudos are appreciated!  
> Good day to you traveler! Hope you enjoyed and buy a potion on your way out!  
> -Seller


End file.
